


The Shrine To Fili's Keyhole

by windchijmes



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dubious Consent, Durincest, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild D/s, Oral Sex, Possible Dubious Consent, Rimming, Size Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windchijmes/pseuds/windchijmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of gratuitously-smutty bottom!Fili fics. Chapters may or may not be related. Warnings apply, please heed them!</p><p><b>Chapter 6 - Honey and Cream (Beorn/Fili, oral, rimming, size kink) </b><br/>Fili is mesmerised by the enormous skin-changer and pays him a visit in the dead of the night. Beorn then proceeds to thoroughly ravish the young Dwarf by fingering him with his huge fingers, using beeswax, and later rimming the hell out of that sweet little hole.</p><hr/><p><b>Chapter 1 - The Golden Pet</b> (Dwalin/Fili, Thorin/Fili, just really graphic smut)<br/><b>Chapter 2 - Bedchamber Rules</b> (Dwalin/Fili, Thorin/Fili, spanking)<br/><b>Chapter 3 - Baiting and Blowing</b> (Kili/Fili, ode to blowjobs)<br/><b>Chapter 4 - A Deflowering</b> (Dwalin/Fili, checking virgin!Fili)<br/><b>Chapter 5 - Gold Sickness</b> (Thorin/Fili, Dwarves/Fili, DUB-CON)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Golden Pet (Dwa/Fi, Thor/Fi, mild bondage, filthy language)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings: mild bondage, filthy language, incest)
> 
> Fili, hands bound behind his back and blindfolded, rides Dwalin, while confessing his desires for his Uncle Thorin. Then suddenly the door opens and Thorin enters. Fili has barely moments to register that fact and orgasms while screaming Thorin's name. Dwalin, though, just finishes lazily thrusting up and offers Thorin a go if he wants. Thorin takes him up on it.

** The Golden Pet **

Darkness before his eyes, cushioned by softest silk. Seemingly comforting. The voice that comes to him from this darkness is gentle, dangerous purring – that of a predator toying with its prey before pouncing.

“…Steady …”

His knees are slipping over the sheets, and the cry is halfway up his throat. Then the hands at his hips tighten and absorb his weight, steadying him. It is a reassuring touch, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Those hands – large and rough – slide down to cup the mounds of his buttocks. Coaxing them apart.

The gust of air across the most intimate part of him makes him shiver. It is swiftly replaced by intrusive, heated roundness. He cannot help it – his senses are even keener without sight – and he shudders. He can feel his own entrance, exposed and vulnerable, quivering around the blunt tip nudged up against it.

“Feel this?” That voice again, laughing now, and hoarse with something darker. _Lust_. “You want this inside you?”

He bites his lip – and nods. He _needs_ it inside him.

“Then get to it, boy.”

A flush rises up his neck. The hands at his buttocks are keeping him splayed open, but that is all they’re doing. He will have to do the rest of the work himself. Forcing his legs to cooperate, he inhales deeply and _lowers himself_. It is hard. The flesh rubbing at his entrance is so thick, and his body struggles to ease into it.

“Almost there, lad…” There is the slightest tremor in that voice now, a sign of fraying control.

A tiny flare of triumph sparks in his belly. Even bound and blindfolded, he holds a measure of power over his lover. It spurs him on now, that knowledge, and he tries again. He almost gnaws through his lip as with a harsh jerk, the heavy cockhead pops into his passage. A cry tears from his lips – of pain and the aching fullness throbbing inside him.

“That’s it…good boy…” Even as it speaks, the voice is deepening. “You should see yourself now…”

He’s not sure if he wants to see himself now. His hands are bound behind his back, his knees are spread on either side of his lover’s lap, he has an inch of cock-flesh lodged inside his arse – and the _rest of that shaft_ is still braced between his thighs.

He begins to seat himself, so agonisingly slowly, torn between wanting to sink onto that cock now, and his passage struggling to open up into the penetration.

“Little wench…” Vulgar filth uttered in the gentlest of tones. “Split wide open, aren’t you? You’re so very pretty like that, sucking my cock into your arse…little golden slut…”

A groan squeezes past his throat, and he feels his own member stiffening rapidly. The much bulkier body beneath him vibrates with savage mirth. His bastard of a lover knows what his words do to _him_.

So, he tilts his body back, displaying himself to the fullest, and whimpers, “It hurts…” It’s a little game between them, and he knows how to play it too. But he need not admit that he’s not entirely making it up. His lover is _not small_ by any means, and he’s feeling every drag of that thick shaft through his passage.

Several more inches dredge into his channel. Sweat breaks over his skin, beading at his temples, trickling down the sides of his face. _Almost there_. Then, without warning, a hand closes around his arousal and begins to fondle him. His groin tightens and he shudders into that touch, held in place by his bound hands, and impaled arse.

“Let me help you, hmm?” The voice purrs, and it is anything but helpful, as it is punctuated by a quickening rhythm over his erection.

Moans drag from his throat – and his legs give way. He sinks like a deadweight, his passage engulfing the last few inches of that engorged cock. He arches his head with a near-scream, feeling an echoing, deep-chested groan from his lover. Sensations envelop him. Suddenly, completely _filled_ – thick, heated flesh burying inside him – rough pleasure from the hand kneading his erection.

“… _Dwalin_!” he chokes out. He cannot decide what he wants – what he needs. He wants to be fucked now, with his lover’s cock finally fully inside him. But he’s driven so dangerously close to completion – he doesn’t dare move.

As if understanding his torment, Dwalin squeezes his shaft right before the head, slowing him down. He moans again, light-headed from being hauled back from the brink.

“You don’t come until I say so, hmm?” Dwalin’s lips press against his forehead, and he contradicts that affectionate gesture with a lewd buck of his hips, jostling something achingly _good_ deep inside him. “Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock, little prince.”

Struggling to balance himself, he pushes up on his knees, raising himself several inches, then plunges down again. Dwalin’s grunts accompany every unsteady lunge. The cockhead brushes something inside him, but not quite – there. Dry sobs begin to build in his throat as he tries again, his quivering thighs raising and lowering his own body in uneven, shallow lunges. But it’s _not enough_.

“Dwalin…” he finally gives in and pleads. “Fuck me…I cannot finish it…myself.”

Dwalin goes very still, and for a brief moment, he thinks that perhaps, the warrior means to keep him dangling all the way to the end, because Dwalin is certainly capable of that. Then, the older Dwarf abruptly moves.

His hips are seized and yanked down, in time to meet a hard, upwards thrust. He gasps, breath taken away.

“Like that, hmm?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he hisses, throwing himself into the pained pleasure, his knees scrabbling over the sheets as he tries to gain purchase. “More…more, Dwalin.”

He hears a guttural snarl from Dwalin – the very sound of the warrior’s control snapping totally. His thighs are roughly shoved further open, hands grip him by the waist, and the cock in his passage begins to piston. His eyes squeeze shut behind the blindfold, the brutal pace shattering his vision even in the darkness. Bounced roughly over Dwalin’s lap, he is barely able to ride the heavy thrusts Dwalin is pounding up into him, the whole girth and length of the cock fucking in and out of his stretched channel without a single pause.

“Mahal…” he sobs, back bowing into his own ravishment.  Tension thrums and tightens deep inside him. “Dwalin…”

“And who else, hmm?” Dwalin laughs, dark amusement, even as his hips continue to buck up savagely. “Let me hear it, lad…”

His lips are dry, throat scraping painfully, and he is teetering on the precipice of ecstasy. But he whispers, “Thorin…”

Dwalin guffaws coarsely. “The good sister-son…lusting after his own Uncle...”

Something about the way Dwalin says it makes him even _harder_. Dwalin’s known for a while – of course – his diseased love for his Uncle. And between them, the knowledge – the very suggestion of copulation between kin – is a perverse secret that thrills and arouses the both of them.

“Again,” Dwalin orders him, his hands moving to his buttocks, lifting him and tugging him down to meet each bruising thrust.

He licks his lips. “Thorin.”

Dwalin’s hand grasps his cock again, and this time, it is relentless. “Louder!”

Through his darkness, he hears the door open – the sound like a death-knell in his shattered mind. Footfalls _inside_ the room.

But he’s already crying out, “ _Thorin_!” And his cock is pulsing in readiness to shoot.

He hears someone  – _a frighteningly familiar voice_ – gasp his name. “ _Fili_.”

And just like that, he plunges over the edge, and he’s coming vigorously in Dwalin’s hand. Copious spatters spewing from his cock. His thoughts are in overdrive – the red blank of intense pleasure – hearing Thorin’s voice and – _oh Mahal, no_ – Thorin _watching him_ riding Dwalin’s lap – and coming – the look on Thorin’s face.

Fear and apprehension heighten frantically in his clouded mind. _Thorin is in the room_. He knows – _he knows_ now. He had screamed his Uncle’s name at the height of his climax. He thinks he should explain, plead for forgiveness. He is both afraid and aroused – if possible at all – just thinking of Thorin’s gaze on him. He struggles to pull away.

But he cannot go anywhere – Dwalin is still fucking up into him, lazily cresting the last few thrusts, before he groans, long and indulgent, shuddering up to spurt thick ropes of seed. He feels it as a hot flood deep inside him. Before he can stop himself, he whimpers again and Dwalin sighs against his sweat-damp hair.

“Beautiful golden pet…” Dwalin rumbles.

He trembles in earnest now. What is he to do? He can feel Thorin’s presence now – tangible and indomitable just paces away. He’s never meant to be found out this way – both dallying with Dwalin, and worse, that he harbours perverse desires for his own Uncle. _What is he to do now?_

But before he _can_ do anything, Dwalin decides for him.

“Well, my King?” the warrior greets Thorin. “Want to have a turn at this?”

Then Dwalin slides out completely, and shoves him around to face Thorin.

++++++++++

Thorin knows what they _engage in_ behind closed doors. And they close their doors often enough, odd hours in the day, many hours at night. But he does not let himself dwell on the goings-on. Not the bestial grunts of sex, interspersed with softer, higher cries. Especially not the carnal images of the warrior Dwarf’s powerful, hulking form pounding the smaller body of his young lover into the bed. Lithe legs rising and wrapping around large, flexing hips. Hands clutched into sheets in the throes of pleasure.

But now.

Now the images are _forced_ into his eyes, presented in all their filthy reality. His sister-son, dutiful Crown Prince Fili, riding desperately on Dwalin’s cock, his body bound by strips of black at his wrists, and over his eyes, so striking against his pale skin. His neck is arched and strained, mouth open in a litany of moans.

 _Thorin_ , he screams as he comes.

Thorin freezes exactly where he stands. _No._ _Not Fili_. He feels nauseous as he sees the very worst manifestation of his gold sickness – the spread of the infection to his sister-son. For years, he has been so careful to hide his twisted urges, but it overflowed despite his efforts. His gaze upon Fili is seared with heat, and his touch sullied by incestuous desire. And now, Fili’s innocence is tainted. The boy is corrupted. And he is –

 _Breathtaking_.

Thorin is half-hard in his breeches.

Beyond Fili’s pliant body, Dwalin’s eyes are knowing and darkly-inviting. The advocate of pure sin.

And Thorin cannot help but feast his eyes on the scene before him, trapped by the depravity of it all. He sees Dwalin finish himself in Fili’s body, and he _watches Fili_ shiver as his lips form soundless apologies, fear on his face as his head turns blindly in Thorin’s direction.

“Well, my King?” Dwalin says to him, his gaze unflinching, though his tone remains provocative. “Want to have a turn at this?” He is almost perfunctory in his manner, casually tucking himself back into his breeches and lacing them back up.

Then he lifts Fili off his lap and pivots him around.

Fili is a sight to behold. The rough movement leaves his legs sprawled open, revealing his spent shaft, and enticing glimpses of that blushing pucker between his buttocks. There are white spatters at his belly and thighs, mingling with the sweat on his heaving body. His golden hair is still braided, the only part of him that remains pristine. The rest of him – debauched. Ravaged.

Thorin is moving forward before he knows it. “ _Fili_ …” the breath leaves his lips, unbidden. The lust in his own voice is shamefully clear.

Dwalin’s eyes gleam and his smirk deepens.

The young Dwarf jerks at the utterance of his name. He raises his face, seduction and surrender all at once as he awaits his punishment. “ _Uncle_ …” he whispers, and he seems as though he wants to say more, but he trembles and his lips pale.

“Look at him,” Dwalin speaks now, voice snaking into the air like sin itself. He takes hold of Fili’s arms and pulls the smaller Dwarf back into his chest. Fili is startled by the sudden move, but he stops himself from crying out. He winds a hand into Fili’s hair and draws his head back, baring his neck. “So obedient.” Bending his head, he licks a rough stripe up the boy’s throat, grinning against the skin when Fili stifles his gasp. “And he tries so hard to quiet himself.”

Dwalin’s gaze flicks up, intense. “Isn’t he perfect, Thorin?”

Fili inhales sharply. His eyes are tracking nervously beneath the blindfold, as if he’s both anticipating and dreading Thorin’s verdict.

All sound is constricted in Thorin’s chest, but his blood pounds in his ears. What _is_ he doing? He’s supposed to stay away; he should have left the room the moment he barged in by mistake. Or was it? Dwalin had asked him to come here at this very hour. Is it just for him to see…this? Fili’s _desires_ for him? His manhood is stirring restlessly in his breeches, spreading warmth through his veins. _What are they doing?_

“He’s…” Thorin says, his voice brittle. It takes several more heartbeats, before he finishes, “ _Beautiful_.”

The expression is strange in Dwalin’s eyes – a mix of possessiveness and unexpected satisfaction. Fili is anxious now, his head turning towards Dwalin, then back to Thorin, like he cannot quite comprehend the turn in events.

Thorin does not know fully understand either. But he has taken his first steps into debauchery, and he knows not how to extricate himself now.

He moves, fuelled by animalistic instinct, and he’s right by the bed now, close enough to touch. He stretches out one hand towards Fili’s cheek. The boy senses him; his head angles towards his hand. Thorin gives in and grasps his face, thumb stroking over his cheek and the golden scruff at his jaw. Like a sweet little pet, Fili leans into the caress.

Heat flares throughout Thorin.

“I told you,” Dwalin laughs low in his throat. “He’s perfect.”

“Yes…” Thorin murmurs, captivated by the way Fili’s tongue appears and licks across his fingers. The boy is tempting him. And Thorin finds he has to resist the urge to shove his cock into that red mouth and put that tongue to its proper use. He uses all his willpower to resist that temptation. “Do you want this, Fili?”

He is asking, and he will leave and never speak of it again if he is refused.

Then Fili smiles, unsteadily but warmly. “I’ve wanted this – ” he takes in a tremulous breath. “For a very long time. Is it a malady, Uncle?”

“A sickness, yes,” Thorin murmurs, and he _cannot stop_ touching the lad. “We are possessed by it.”

“I do not want to be healed, then,” Fili decides, his tone resolute. “What would you do with me now, Uncle?” He settles back into Dwalin’s chest, spreading his legs _just_ open, and waits. A naked golden sylph wearing a mask of chastity.

Thorin feels both terribly aroused and damned at the same time, knowing that he’s crossed a line no uncle should even contemplate touching. But he’s aching with as much need as Fili now, and his every nerve is alight as he looks at Dwalin. Asking again, for another kind of permission.

Dwalin chortles, fierce fondness in his face. “The prince decides, and I follow.” He nuzzles into the golden hair at his cheek.

“Untie me then,” Fili says at once. “I want to touch.”

“Very well – ” Dwalin obliges.

“ _Not yet_.”

Both warrior and prince go still at the command laid down by their King. Spoken in that familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar deep tones. It is raw and rough with desire now. Dwalin re-settles himself back against the bed frame, a grin curling at his lips.

“No, my King?” he drawls.

“I want him like that,” Thorin continues, licking at his lips. Yes, _yes_ he wants his sister-son in _that_ manner. Not the usual composed, diplomatically-smiling Fili of Ered Luin. But Fili with his hands tied behind his back, and his eyes blinded by dark silk, head turning at every unexpected sound, body flexing so deliciously in its bonds, chest heaving with uncertain little hitches.

Fili gapes at Thorin’s command, and Thorin can imagine the lad’s gaze blown wide behind the blindfold. His cheeks are beginning to stain a fetching red. “You – you just like to see me trussed up like a squealing pig.”

It’s a fair assessment, but not entirely accurate. Thorin takes Fili’s chin and lifts his face so that he can speak right against the boy’s lips. “You look beautiful – bound and at our mercy. But as for _squealing_ – ” He presses his mouth deeper. “You will squeal, and that won’t be all you’re doing this night. I’ll make you scream again and again, and Dwalin will not idle through it all. Now,” he pulls away and smiles when he feels the gusting, uneven pants from the young Dwarf. “Would you like that, Fili?”

Fili’s cheeks are truly crimson now. No doubt he’s imagining himself taken in all ways possible by _both_ of his lovers. He groans softly, blatant need colouring his tone. “I want that,” he says, and surges up to kiss his Uncle. Passionate, and so, so earnest.

Thorin indulges him for a while, revelling in the taste of that lush mouth, still a little clumsy yet in its youth. He lets Fili lead. It is rare that Fili reveals the depths of his emotions. With Kili, it is easier. Kili is the younger and the more reckless. Thorin knows just what to say in chastisement, and what to do next in gruff encouragement. Fili is so very different. He rarely shows what he truly feels. Thorin understands suddenly Dwalin’s reason for the knots at Fili’s wrists and the blindfold at his eyes. They strip away his pretenses and his inhibitions. Even now, eager and willing, Fili is half-playing the role of the unchaste slut. The lad _knows_ what his coy submissiveness does to his lovers; it is power to him.

Thorin pulls away, equally amused and provoked by the realisation. _Clever, cunning little wench._ And almost immediately right after, Thorin realises that a special kind of treatment is necessary for this golden lad. His eyes flick up, and he nods to Dwalin. “Let me see all of him.”

The warrior angles his head in acquiescence, relinquishing his control to Thorin now. He arranges Fili so that the boy’s body is cradled at his chest, and the golden head resting by his lips. He takes Fili’s legs under the knees and carefully draws them up. There is a continuous moan from Fili’s throat now, very soft, just enough for Dwalin’s ears to catch. Oh, the little prince knows what a picture he makes in Dwalin’s arms – thighs held open by the warrior’s hands, laid bare for his King’s eyes.

Thorin takes his time. He lets his gaze rake unhurriedly, slowly even, over his gloriously-naked golden lad. The inner thighs are so pale, and tender. He confirms it as he trails his fingers up and down the stretches of trembling skin. At the apex of those thighs, the young, slender shaft _twitches_. Thorin eyes it approvingly; Fili’s body is responsive, and that is something Thorin always appreciates in his bedmates. It makes him consider touching the boy where he wants the most. But he pauses on second thought. Not yet.

Instead, Thorin slides his hand into the nest of hair at Fili’s groin. They grow darker than those on his head. He toys with the deep-golden curls, tugging them, feeling the skin jump beneath his touch.

“Stop…playing with me,” Fili manages between needy sighs. “Uncle… _Uncle_ , please!”

Thorin decides he likes the way Fili addresses him when he’s teased like that. Uttered with that begging, demanding inflection in his tone. Since the lad insists on being taken seriously, Thorin’s fingers drift downwards until they brush against the tiny ring of muscle between his buttocks.

Fili jerks so hard that Dwalin has to readjust his grip with a chuckle, bending his head to kiss the boy’s cheek. If it is a gesture meant to comfort, it is certainly at odds with the way Dwalin follows it up with a deliberate flex of his hands to spread Fili’s thighs even wider.

“So…” Thorin murmurs now, letting his words roll over Fili like a warm blanket. He presses his fingers to that pucker again, harder this time, making sure his touch is _felt_. “You’ve had Dwalin here…” He begins to rub into the fluids leaking around his fingers. “Fili,” he says now, in admonishment. “Didn’t anyone teach you that drooling _here_ is bad manners?”

Fili’s mouth drops open at the sheer _indecency_ of Thorin’s scolding. A blush begins to rise on his skin, adding to the crimson already warming his face. “I…I didn’t mean…” he bites on his lip, looking suitably chastised. “I’m sorry I…misbehaved,” he swallows. “You – you’ll have to punish me.”

“Oh, rest assured I will,” Thorin smiles wolfishly, one that only Dwalin can see. The warrior’s expression is wild now – hovering somewhere between rising arousal and carnal enjoyment of the little scene he’s partaking in. “But before that, I have to clean you up.”

Making sure Dwalin is watching, Thorin scoops a little of that milky stickiness at Fili’s arsehole, and pushes two fingers at once inside with the fluids. The boy’s passage-walls are slick and hot, opening up easily to admit Thorin’s fingers. Not surprising, considering he’s just been plowed open by Dwalin earlier, and Thorin has seen for himself his soldier’s _girth_. Thorin repeats his little exercise a few times, pulling his fingers out, taking more of the release that has oozed out, and pushing it back into the boy’s arse. It is messy and filthy, and when he decides he has his fill of toying with the young Dwarf, the lad is tossing his head back agitatedly against Dwalin’s shoulder, his cock stirring to life until it rises to half-mast between his outstretched thighs.

“There,” Thorin pronounces, gaze riveted on the now wet, luscious hole. It is _seducing_ him. “It’s cleaner now,” he leans forward so that his voice would reach right into Fili’s ear. “Shall I describe it to you?”

A helpless groan escapes Fili’s lips, so aroused and flustered by his Uncle’s words.

“It’s such a naughty, greedy little thing. What else do you think I should put in there, Fili?”

“You…” Fili says breathlessly, shifting in his bonds. He is flushed and fully-erect. “Your _cock_.”

“Later? Or – ”

“ _Now_ ,” Fili declares like a brazen little prince, and earns himself a reprimanding nip on his ear from Dwalin. It doesn’t stop Fili from turning his head to the warrior and waiting expectantly until he receives a consoling kiss.

Thorin watches their little exchange with no jealousy, but _some_ covetousness, he admits in a buried part of his mind. He undresses himself. It is just as well he should quickly get ready to possess Fili. He would never have imagined himself to be in this state now, given the chance to _have_ his sister-son in the most debased manner possible. But now, presented with the opportunity, he is giving himself to it with frightening willingness. The latent desires that he had convinced himself as simply symptoms of gold-sickness are laid bare now, in all their ugly perversity.

When he is finally fully unclothed, he lowers himself onto the bed. It sinks under his weight and Fili starts as he feels the depression in the bed slowly moving towards him.  His breathing is erratic again in his anticipation. Thorin moves until his rigid member is pointed right at the furl of muscle deep between Fili’s thighs. He strokes himself with a touch that is too light for real friction, and his gaze rests on the blindfold at Fili’s eyes. It would be gratifying to take Fili as he is robbed of sight and so vulnerable.

But something deeper and more urgent inflames Thorin’s insides now. He thinks perhaps, he wants Fili to _look_ at him when he claims him, and to know exactly _who_ is claiming him this time.

Thorin looks up then, and nods to Dwalin without a word. Understanding him right away, the warrior grins and lets go of Fili’s legs to untie the blindfold. He pulls it off before the lad even knows what is happening.

Vision restored abruptly, that bleary, azure gaze swivels around the room, blinking from the flood of firelight into the earlier darkness. Then it begins to focus, glancing up first at Dwalin with a glint of playfulness in its depths, then locking onto Thorin with absolute concentration.

“Thorin,” Fili says now, hesitantly, as if he is using all his effort not to look away. Now that he can see all too clearly, there is no escape or excuse from their incestuous union.

Thorin does not touch him yet, even as his traitorous cock strains towards the forbidden fruit that is sister-son’s body. “I will ask you again,” he says, and he cannot help but hear how his own voice has gotten so hoarse, so raw. “Will you allow me to do this?”

 _This_ – fucking his own nephew like depraved creatures. 

“Only if,” Fili stares right into his eyes, beyond shame or reproach. “You want this as much as I do.”

Thorin smiles, and it feels feral on his own face. He bends his head so that their faces are a scant width apart, and he can see even the subtlest emotion across Fili’s face. “I will show you exactly – ” He grips Fili’s thighs to manacle him in place, and pushes forward with his shaft so that it digs into the boy’s hole. “How much – ” With a long grunt, he bears down on Fili’s body until the head of his erection burrows _into_ the lad. Beneath him, Fili’s eyes widen as he feels every sensation of his second penetration. “I _want_ you.” With a triumphant snarl, Thorin snaps his hips forward and seats himself halfway into that beautiful, velvet heat.

Fili tosses his head back with a muffled scream. Taking advantage of that neck offered to him, Dwalin buries his face into the crook, covering the tender skin with bruising kisses.

“Thorin – Dwalin – !” Fili gasps, as if he cannot decide which torture to surrender to. Thorin’s cock allows him bare moments to adjust, before it is cleaving into him again. At his neck and jaw, Dwalin is caressing him with slow, wet laves of the tongue, coarse beard tickling his skin.

Thorin stares down at himself now, mesmerised by the sight of that wanton little pucker swallowing around his arousal. He can feel himself throbbing and lengthening _inside_ Fili, as it is pumped by the squirming walls of Fili’s channel. The boy is panting as he stares at him, his gaze blanking with mindless want.

Rising to his knees, Thorin takes Fili’s legs into his hands now, and he braces himself. His restraint dissipates rapidly. Heat blazes through him, trickling down his back and into his manhood, urging him to _move_. The boy nods desperately, encouraging him. Thorin rewards him with a long withdrawal of his cock, until the very tip remains inside, then he pushes back in all the way in a single thrust. He does it _again_ – _and again_ –slow, drawn-out lunges to impale his nephew in the most intimate way possible. He wants Fili to feel every fibre of him, every drag, every push and pull.

It is torment at its keenest. Impaled by Thorin’s cock from below, and caressed by Dwalin’s hungry exploration of his neck, Fili’s body undulates helplessly between them, his thighs jerking with every jounce, hands twisting futilely in their bonds. He cannot move, cannot touch himself to completion, and he is half-sobbing from the devastating pleasure mounting ever so slowly, yet steadily in his loins. His neglected, reddened cock slaps against his belly, leaving wet streaks on his own skin.

Dwalin’s fingers begin to grope Fili’s chest now, rolling and pinching his nipples until they are rigid little peaks. Fili cries out even louder, and Thorin is spurred on by this, picking up the pace until he is spearing into that sweet, sinful body. He is breathless and precariously close to completion himself, and it is all he can do to temper his thrusts, not to ravage the boy completely. Fili will need what little mercy Thorin can allow him now, as he is taken by both warrior and King in a single night.

He does not last long, so submerged in the heat around his cock. _Go on, my lord_ , he hears Dwalin rumble, as if goading him on to lose himself to his basest urges. Gripping welts into Fili’s legs, Thorin bucks furiously into the last few thrusts, and he climaxes in an explosion of sparks behind his vision. _Mahal._ He’s not come so hard in a long time, releasing deep and plenty into his nephew, riding out the aftershocks of his release while Fili whimpers at being filled with hot, gushing seed.

“Please…” Fili pleads now, writhing feverishly between his lovers’ heavier bodies. “Let me…Uncle…please…I need…I need to come…”

A growl squeezes from Thorin’s chest; he thinks he will surely get addicted to the way the boy begs so tantalisingly. “You may command – ” Thorin grits out as his thrumming shaft finally begins to soften. “Your soldier.”

Fili twists towards Dwalin at once, golden eyelashes fluttering. “Dwalin…” he blurts incoherently. “Make me come…Dwalin…”

“I cannot let the prince suffer so, can I?” Dwalin growls in laughter, more hungry affection in his tone than deference. He nuzzles his way down Fili’s quivering body, taking care to flick those stiff nipples with his tongue and wrench an unprincely curse from the lad.

Dwalin pauses at the crown of Fili’s thighs, and lifts his eyes to first meet Thorin’s heated stare, then Fili’s entreating gaze. Smirking, the warrior takes his prize in one hand – that pretty, swollen cock – and shoves it into his mouth. He does not stop until most of it is wedged in his throat.

Fili’s wail rises sharply into a whine. Such a dirty, lewd sight as there never was. Thorin keeps his sated member inside Fili, revelling in the languid warmth, while he drinks in the image of his greatest soldier nursing at his sister-son’s cock, his tattooed, scarred head working greedily between shaking thighs. It is sickeningly beautiful.

Above Dwalin, Fili can no longer keep his gaze open. Only his bearded chin can be seen; his head is arched back and eyes squeezed shut. His mouth is open, and strangled noises stammer from it. He is unable to thrust up, so he can only lie trapped, enduring the slick, suckling pleasure as his erection disappears in and out of Dwalin’s mouth.

When he comes, for the second time that night, Fili can barely scream. His body convulses urgently, hips stuttering up for Dwalin to suck the spurts from his cock. He is completely boneless now, making little mewls in his throat while Dwalin finishes his task with thorough ruthlessness, keeping the young cock-flesh in his mouth until he swallows every drop from it. When Fili is finally drained dry, the warrior lets the boy’s member slide out of his mouth with an obscene _plop_.

The overwhelmed lad cannot do much afterwards, shifting wearily when his hands are untied and his wrists are rubbed by large, soothing hands. Another pair of hands pulls an undershirt over his body, tugging gently at his limbs to make them cooperate. When the boy’s breeches are retrieved from the floors, Fili eyes them critically and shakes his head.

“Too hot,” he says.

“Get rid of them, then,” Thorin finds himself agreeing, relishing the idea of Fili wearing just an undershirt and nothing else. It covers the upper body, and leaves the lower body alluringly exposed. Prince from the waist up, wench from the waist down. It is poetic juxtaposition.

This puts the warrior Dwarf in the interesting position of being the voice of reason in their unholy threesome. Dwalin snorts wryly. “That leaves you open to molest, my prince,” he warns the lad and proves his point by sliding one hand over the naked swell of buttocks, and _squeezing_.

Undeterred, the golden lad just nestles even more securely between his older lovers, making sure he’s in the most comfortable position he can find – entwined into Thorin’s chest, and Dwalin’s beard. “I suggest,” he says, eyes closed, sounding imperious despite his situation. “You think about how you’re going to _share_.”

King and warrior look up at each other, then down at the half-naked, golden pet they’ve both laid claim to.

Dwalin looks tactician-like. “We’re going to need a schedule.”

“And bed-chamber rules,” Thorin acknowledges gruffly.

 

_finis_

* * *


	2. Bedchamber Rules (Thor/Fi, Dwa/Fi, spanking, fingering, possible dub-con)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings: possible dubious consent, spanking, fingering, incest)
> 
> Fili is only allowed to wear a shirt in their bedchambers for ease of access when they want to fuck or Fili needs a spanking for having been bad or Dwalin and Thorin just wants a grope. Then one day, Fili manages to land himself in trouble, and of course, this means punishment.

** Bedchamber Rules **

As a general rule of thumb, Fili is only allowed to wear a shirt in their bedchambers.

It hadn’t started that way, of course. Ever since they began sharing their bedchambers, Fili would wear a respectable undershirt, and thin breeches comfortable enough for sleep. Except later, it was established that sleep was the last on their list of priorities, and breeches took too long to get unlaced and removed from the boy’s legs. And Fili was always grousing about being too hot as he lay nestled between his two larger, older lovers.

In a fit of frustration, Thorin had decided that Fili would wear a shirt and nothing else the moment he stepped into the bedchambers. And Dwalin supported his decision whole-heartedly. Fili remained coquettish about it, until he saw how his state of half-undress so effortlessly got his lovers riled up. _Then_ he got clever and cunning about it.

The shirt was chosen by Fili himself. It is one of Thorin’s own – pure white, loosely held together at the chest by delicate laces, and it hangs off Fili’s smaller frame like billowing silk. It ends right in the middle of his thighs, just long enough to give Fili some measure of modesty, but also short enough to be tented and lifted by groping fingers, or the boy’s own rising arousal.

Thorin takes no small amount of pleasure in watching the boy move. Fili wearing his ornate braids in his hair, princely in his gait and proud in his bearing, while his legs are bared, the white shirt swirling around his body, offering tantalising glimpses of young, taut flesh beneath. It makes for such enticing contrast. And no doubt, Thorin delights in simply watching the lad walk around half-naked in his _Uncle’s_ shirt. On occasion, he’s gotten Fili to slowly strip himself. The shirt just hanging off his shoulders to reveal pale skin, and Fili’s hands slowly dragging the shirt up until it is _held there_ by nothing but Fili’s fully-hard, raging erection.

Dwalin prefers a more practical approach. He loves to _touch_. He waits until the boy is unsuspecting. That doesn’t happen often; Fili is a sharp lad. But like all young Dwarves, Fili oversteps himself sometimes, swaggering by like a cocky upstart, blatantly teasing Dwalin and expecting to get away with it. And that’s when Dwalin grabs the boy and drags him onto his lap. Fili will laugh and yelp and gripe about Dwalin being a brute. But a few thorough kneads of his buttocks and cock later, the boy is pliant and begging for more.

Then of course, there is punishment.

Fili doesn’t often get into trouble. In fact, he _rarely_ does. He does not share Kili’s penchant for reckless, brazen misadventures. And when he makes mistakes, it is usually out of genuine oversight. Little errors that are easily smoothed over by a contrite apology and quick rectifying action. But the _deliberate_ wrongs that Fili commits – now those are in a stratus of their own. As a child, he’d released a whole herd of ponies into the wilderness, believing them to be better off roaming free, then proceeded to write a vehement speech about the mistreatment of the noble beasts. As he grew older, he took arrogant delight in challenging the sons of Court nobles to fights. He would lose, graciously and purposely. Yet in the process, he would make them look like utter imbeciles, _also_ purposely. These days however, Fili is beginning to feel the weight of his title, and restrains himself from any trouble; he’s left that role to Kili.

Occasionally, though, Fili _forgets_.

And so, special bedchamber rules are erected for him.

++++++++++ **  
**  


This day the lad has landed himself in a world of trouble, the likes of which _Kili_ would be proud of.

_Crack._

Then the first whimper comes – and it is quickly swallowed.

Slowly, purposefully pacing the room, Dwalin takes his time. He undoes his knuckle-dusters, letting the metal clang of them resound in the hushed room and jarring the cloying air. Everything from waist up then joins the knuckledusters on the stone floors, baring enormous shoulders and a broad, coarse expanse of chest.

_Crack._

Oh that was a loud one. It must hurt. The sound that follows next is a quiet, sorry little moan. And again, it is stifled. _Good boy_.

Now Dwalin circles the bed, his gait measured, letting the other two pairs of eyes in the chamber follow his movements. They differ greatly in expression. One matches Dwalin in intensity and perhaps even supersedes him in sheer possessiveness. The other – oh the _other one_ – is blue and flickers with shame, lust and beautiful _defiance_.

Their little lover never yields without a fight, even bound to the bed as he is.

_Crack._

Dwalin turns and paces the side of the bed, eyeing it with cool appraisal. A bed of stacked silks and linens, black as the night sky. Bars of wrought, engraved iron stand at the head and foot of the bed, rising several feet up from the bed. Easier for tying knots.

_Crack._

An audible cry now, its utterer not able to swallow it in time. It flows like warm ale over Dwalin’s senses. And for the first time that night, he finally allows himself to take in the vision of their golden pet.

Still wearing Thorin’s shirt, Fili is bent over the bars of the bed, his hands bound with silk ties to the bars. His upper body trembles under the white veil of his shirt, while the rest of him is stretched out and balanced on his knees, leaving him open and vulnerable. His head is bowed; he does not hide his face in his hands but it is obscured under the fall of his golden hair. He seems to be holding it well enough together; he has quite the temperament after all, blessed with the fiery streak of his Uncle and brother, and the quieter tenacity of his birth parents.

“Are you sorry?” The figure looming over Fili on the bed finally speaks. His voice is a deep, heavy roar.

Fili goes rigid and his head jerks up just a little, enough for Dwalin to see that he’s gnawing on his bottom lip. Then Fili lowers his head again, and _shakes it_.

Dwalin suddenly wants to kiss the boy. He won’t have expected anything less from their golden lad.

On the bed, Thorin closes his eyes briefly, the furrow between his brows deepening. When he opens them again, there is unbridled fury in his glare. “You treated our guests with utter discourtesy.” The line reverberates like thunder in the room.

“The Men belittled our culture,” Fili actually retorts. “They deserved it.”

Well, that cannot bode well for the boy, Dwalin thinks. And it doesn’t. Thorin’s arm rises, and he deals five cracks against Fili’s buttocks in swift succession, each one harsher than the last.

Fili’s whole body shudders through the spanking, his gaze roving wildly around the chamber, until it comes to a rest on Dwalin. Those blue eyes are so beseeching. Then the _stinging pain_ seizes Fili and he bows his head into it. A litany of choked gasps flows from his mouth.

Dwalin is moving before he knows it and he’s right _at_ the bars and just barely holding back from touching the boy. Above Fili’s quivering form, he looks up now, a little sheepishly, meeting Thorin’s glare. There’s no doubt who Thorin thinks is the one who spoils their golden brat rotten. Dwalin will debate that, of course. He admits he has a soft spot for the lad, but he’s no less fearsome than Thorin when it comes to discipline. And the King himself has his moments when he coddles his nephew. Dwalin fancies sometimes Thorin just doesn’t like to share very much. Royal, cocky bastards, these Durin heirs.

“Well,” Dwalin speaks now, risking the ire of his King, who still resembles a dark storm-cloud at this moment. He places his fingers under Fili’s chin, and lifts his face up. _Oh_. Dwalin silent thanks what he thinks is awe-inspiring self-restraint on his part. The boy’s fine-boned face is pitiful. He is biting down on his lip so hard. And his eyes are disorientated and suspiciously bright.  Dwalin has never seen the boy cry since he grew into his adult years.

An itch grows in Dwalin’s belly now. _Perhaps_ he wants to see Fili’s eyes tear up into watery pools.

Dwalin pulls away his fingers. “How would you make up for your indiscretion?”

“ _Indiscretion_ ,” Thorin snarls from his end of the bed. “It’s a complete lack of judgment and propriety. Unbecoming of a prince and future heir to the throne.”

Fili’s lips tremble, and the first traces of contriteness seep into his gaze. “I…” he attempts to say, his words hoarse in his throat. “I would…” He falters, then refuses to continue, his expression hovering between apology and recalcitrance.

Royal, cocky, _stubborn_ bastards. Dwalin briefly wonders if obstinacy is something innate to their lineage. He leans down towards Fili, not close enough to touch, but so the lad can _hear_ him. “Shall we display your arse to the emissaries? Show them how sorry you are?”

That has two effects. Firstly, Fili inhales sharply, eyes widening. “ _No_ ,” he says breathlessly. “No, Dwalin…”

Secondly, at Dwalin’s words, Thorin’s eyes flick towards his nephew’s body, and _lingers_. They rake slowly down Fili’s back and buttocks, growing more and more heated along the way.

Dwalin smirks. “No? Perhaps not, then.” He takes Fili’s face again and rubs his thumb across the thick, golden scruff at the lad’s chin. Then he taps one finger against Fili’s jaw, and the lad eagerly parts his lips. Dwalin takes his mouth languidly; he keeps Fili at a careful distance, not allowing him to press up into him, not even when his wrists strain against his bonds.

When they break the kiss, Fili is restless, sore at his bottom and not-quite comforted by Dwalin’s detached caress. “Now,” Dwalin tells him, his tone brooking no argument. “We continue your punishment, until the King releases you.”

Clad in just a shirt and breeches, the _King_ lounges on the bed like a great, wild-haired beast. He has one foot planted on the silk, his posture lazily predatory. He shifts forward, just enough to press one finger to the rump presented to him. Fili shudders but bites his lip again to stay still. Unhurriedly, Thorin traces the curve of muscle with his finger, watching with savage triumph as the aching skin shivers under his touch.

“Uncle…” Fili groans out under his breath, finally breaking his obstinate defiance.

There is anger still in Thorin’s glare; he is not so easily placated. But there is also desire searing that anger now. Dwalin’s cock stirs between his legs. He reckons he has a bit of sickness within him – perhaps even more dire than the incestuous urges plaguing Thorin and Fili – for he relishes the very suggestion of lust between Uncle and nephew.

Thorin growls softly, “Dwalin will see to you.” Then he resettles back into his half-inclined position.

Fili is both frustrated and resigned. He knows he’s in the wrong, but he’s still hard-headed about it. Dwalin is strangely amused by the realisation. No matter. The warrior has not lain with his share of lovers to be put off by a stubborn boy. He unties the lad’s wrists from the bars, but keeps the silk knotted around them. Then Dwalin draws Fili upwards, and loops the boy’s bound wrists over his neck. This has the interesting effect of keeping Fili straining up and trapped at his chest, while Dwalin has complete access to every inch of his sweet, trembling body.  

He pulls up the lad’s shirt very slowly, Fili’s breaths quickening in time to his action, until the boy is completely bared from waist down. Over Fili’s shoulder, Dwalin stares at the rounded swells presented to him, his gaze riveted on the crimson, hurting skin. He sees why Thorin has such a penchant for spanking Fili as punishment. It makes Fili’s arse so very _pretty_ afterwards.

In his breeches, Dwalin’s erection pulses with blood and arousal. Just the _sight_ of Fili’s hurting bottom is enough to send desire licking in his veins. In his deceptively restful position, Thorin’s eyes flare in blatant hunger, and his lips lift in a shrewd, wolfish smirk. He knows exactly the _state_ of Dwalin’s crotch.

“Will you accept the rest of your punishment?” Thorin questions Fili now, commanding and intense. He does not need to move; his tone alone will put haste into the hardest of soldiers. But as always, he leaves a back door open for the lad. Fili will make his own choice.

Their golden lad frowns. “Will you make me suffer?” he demands of Dwalin.

Dwalin huffs into his beard. Insolent lad. “Very much so,” he promises with a snarl in his voice.

A telltale flush begins to creep up Fili’s neck. He gets that way when he is excited, and trying his best not to show it. “Very well,” Fili concedes. “I will yield, then,” he says as he lifts his chin, looking so much like a proper prince, despite the sorry state of his bottom. Dwalin carefully supresses the ferocious urge to ravage the boy. After all, Fili has no idea – or he does, but not fully so – of the effect his petulance has on the predators who hover around him.

Almost lazily, Thorin retrieves the bottle of salve from their chest, and tosses it across the bed to Dwalin. They share a deep, hooded glance that speaks of dirty, bestial rutting.

Only half-aware of the unholy enjoyment passing between his lovers, Fili murmurs as he shifts on his knees, trying to get comfortable on legs that are none too steady. Dwalin lets the lad fidget, stretching his wait time and making his anxiety build. It is a punishment, after all. Leisurely, Dwalin coats his palms with the cool, viscous liquid.

The moment Fili turns his head to see what he is doing, Dwalin snaps at him, “Keep your eyes on me, boy.”

Fili’s startled gaze jerks up to meet Dwalin’s hard stare. “Yes,” Fili says quietly, properly chastised. “I under – ” His pitch rises sharply as Dwalin chooses that moment to cup his palms over Fili’s buttocks, and the cold from the salve nips at his flesh. “I understand.”

Now it is Dwalin’s turn to soak in the moment. He freely admits he has taken a real liking to the boy’s arse. The _things_ he can do it, and the _sounds_ he wrenches from the boy while doing things to it. But now, with the supple flesh so heated and throbbing with little tremors of pained pleasure, Dwalin _revels_ in it. He takes all he wants from it, running his palms up and down the pert mounds, kneading them every now and then to hear the soft little hitches from Fili’s throat. Oh, but Dwalin must do this in order to work the salve thoroughly into the skin. So he does, playing with large handfuls of the boy’s bottom, while Thorin begins teaching the young Dwarf how to be a proper prince.

“What did you do today?” Thorin demands mercilessly.

“I…” Fili squirms where he kneels; Dwalin’s fingers have drifted into the clench between his buttocks. “I interfered with the trade talks…” He confesses. “I did not like their attitude towards our King.”

Thorin raises one dark eyebrow. He keeps his expression straight. “Go on.”

“I debated with their leader.”

Dwalin takes each half of Fili’s rump in one hand, and massages it, pulling them open every so often to offer glimpses of the boy’s forbidden entrance to Thorin’s rapidly darkening scrutiny. Dwalin knows what the King is seeing – that blushing winking little hole deep inside. The lad knows it too, squirming at Dwalin’s chest like a small, wriggling creature trying to escape. But he has nowhere to run to, and he whines softly in protest.

“And?” Thorin persists.

“…Made a fool of him…”  The lad blurts in one breath. “Dwalin…!”

That earns the lad a slide of large, calloused fingers right across his entrance. Fili’s breath catches and his throat works futilely for a moment to get any word out. Slickened with the salve, Dwalin’s fingers probe deeply into the boy, then he hooks _two_ at once into the passage, up to his joints. Then he just waits, and grins down as Fili _moans_ , a full-body quiver starting at his golden head, shuddering all the way down to his little pucker trembling from Dwalin’s attentions.

“Continue,” Thorin commands harshly, his own breath beginning to pant in his chest. “Do not stop until I say so!”

“I…” Fili stifles one groan, and promptly loses the next battle when Dwalin’s fingers twist inside his passage without going any deeper. “I…ungh…challenged…their soldiers to a duel…please, I…want…” The last half of his words forms no logical sequence with the first half.

Dwalin waits again, letting the moment crawl by, right until Fili tugs at his neck, trying to lower his own body onto his fingers, then the warrior pushes in all the way until he is knuckle-deep inside Fili. He keeps his fingers lodged fully within the boy, curling them slowly to feel how the hot-tender innerwalls pulsate around them. Between Fili’s legs, his young cock is standing at full attention. It springs upright against his belly, glistening wetly with arousal and fluids. The lad’s hands clutch urgently at Dwalin’s hair.

“So, are you sorry?” Thorin thunders behind them. His iron control is close to eroding. He has one hand on the crotch of his breeches, but he neither pleasures himself, nor touches Fili. Watching Fili suffer under Dwalin’s hands alone lends him heady, drunken gratification.  

Fili purses his lips out of reflexive rebellion, and Dwalin chooses that very moment to withdraw his fingers. Then stabs them inside again, fully, thoroughly, _hard_. The lad wrenches his head back with a cry, and Dwalin swiftly buries his mouth into the neck offered to him. He latches on with a vicious kiss, sucking and biting the skin until a bruise blooms under his lips. Then he does it again, and again. Fili twists in his embrace, making incoherent noises as he is tormented by the warrior.

“I…” The boy tries to speak and the words are garbled around a plaintive mewl. Dwalin’s fingers have sparked something deep in his loins, and they do not stop, sliding in and out of his hole in long, lewd strokes. “I am…” Fili cries out softly. “Please…I…”

Just a little more encouragement, then. Dwalin cradles the boy’s near-hairless balls in one large palm, and trails one finger into the _space_ behind them. The skin is tender and smooth there, and so _sensitive_. He begins to alternate firm squeezes of Fili’s testes, and a teasing, too-light grope of that sweet little strip.

“Hnnnhgh…Dwalin…” Dry sobs at the warrior’s neck. The boy’s body quivers so deliciously against him.

“Come now, laddie,” Dwalin murmurs into Fili’s ear, and his fingers in the boy’s passage begin to thrust harder, _deeper_. “What must you say to the King? Hm?”

It is a drunk, obscene tableau. Thorin’s eyes are dark shards in his face as he awaits their pet’s complete submission. And at once torturer and comforter, Dwalin coaxes the good little prince, spearing his fingers roughly into him, and pumping his young cock until it is all weeping hardness in his hand.

Between his two lovers, Fili writhes helplessly and makes the most enticing little cries as he is kept teetering, finger-fucked on one end, fondled on the other. When the boy finally raises his face to Dwalin, the brightness in his eyes threatens to brim over. “I am sorry…” he says plaintively.

Dwalin stops all movements of his hands without warning, and the boy’s eyes begin to glaze over with acute need. “Are you now?” The warrior persists. Fili nods with a soft little sigh, and Dwalin takes his arms down from around his neck and bodily turns him around – Fili can barely move by himself with his sore behind and heavily-swaying, unfulfilled erection.

Thorin is waiting already, an impressive bulge in his breeches, and a gaze that is all but impaling Fili. There is a gleam of pure lust in the King’s dark orbs.

It is hard to stop touching the boy, even if he has ceded some control over to Thorin. Keeping Fili’s shirt raised, Dwalin caresses his chest and belly and thighs, skirting clear of his straining cock. “Say it, laddie,” Dwalin encourages him.

“I…” There is a clear note of entreaty in Fili’s tone now. “I’m sorry, Uncle.” He does not dare relax into Dwalin’s caresses, though he wants to. He’s always loved being petted.

“Louder,” Thorin commands him brusquely.

“I’m sorry,” Fili says out loud, voice brittle. “I won’t do it again.”

Thorin keeps quiet for another moment, before the storm fades from his eyes, and he nods once. “You may touch yourself.”

So the lad is released from his suffering.

Unable to stop the little mewls from his throat, Fili wraps his shaking, bound hands around his own arousal and begins to pump it as he is watched by his Uncle and soldier. It feels perverse, as if they are lecherous villains offered the forbidden view of the young, golden Dwarf pleasuring himself. Up and down his hands rub over the shaft between his thighs, the wetness at his cockhead dribbling onto his fingers as he rides his own pleasure higher and higher. Fili’s eyes are open through it all, but blank with the desperate need to come.

“Good lad,” Dwalin laughs devilishly into his ear. “Come on now, faster. You want to come in front of your Uncle, don’t you? See how he watches you. Show him how sweet you are with your red arse and wet cock.”

The boy is getting close, hurtled along by the furious strokes of his hands, and the vulgar filth Dwalin is feeding into his mind. Sweat beads over his face, flushing the skin crimson. Taking hold of the lad’s golden braids, Dwalin tilts his head back, so he can lick a hot, broad stripe up the boy’s cheek. He likes tasting Fili like this, when he can feel even the smallest tremor in the young Dwarf’s body, and every hitch in his breathing.

Screaming out loud, the boy’s eyes squeeze shut at last and wetness slips from his closed eyes. Dwalin marvels at the tears; the lad is _prettier_ when he cries. The tears turn his lashes a darker gold, and taste salty-sweet on Dwalin’s tongue. Fili sobs helplessly through his violent climax, his cock pulsing as it spews thick strings of seed on his own stomach and chest. Dwalin’s arms catch his body when he sags like a string-cut puppet after his release is fully spilled.

Thorin gestures to Dwalin to bring the boy over, and Fili does not budge from where he is resting at Dwalin’s chest. So what can the warrior do? He gathers the boneless lad into his arms and lugs him to the head of the bed, naturally. Torturer, comforter and _porter_ , Dwalin gripes inwardly, certainly not missing the little smirk of gratification on Fili’s lips as he is carried.

Punished yet sated, Fili raises his face, and when Dwalin bends down to kiss him, the lad whispers conspiratorially, “I put something into the Men’s drinks. They’d be needing their chamber pots so very often.” Then he settles back down and blinks obediently as Dwalin places him in Thorin’s waiting embrace.

The little _devil_. Dwalin has to cough to mask his entirely untimely guffaw.

Dwalin shakes his head as he watches Thorin crush his nephew’s mouth with bruising kisses. The King has _no_ idea.

They would need new bedchamber rules and methods of punishment for their golden pet very soon.

_finis_

* * *

 


	3. Baiting and Blowing (Ki/Fi, oral sex, filthy language)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings: oral sex, filthy language, incest)
> 
> Fili baits Kili into a fiery mood - because the sex is mindblowing after that. After one such attempt, Kili expends his fury by fucking deep and hard into his brother's mouth. But to make up for his roughness, he unravels Fili with a slow, thorough blowjob.

** Baiting and Blowing **

Sometimes, it’s a game. They like to do this sometimes. Force the mutual tension and desire so dizzyingly high they’re tearing at each other the moment they’re alone. But as with a game, there is a set-up and a chase, and the clever use of seduction when the other least expects it.

Fili has become a sort of expert at it. He knows when Kili is aching in _that_ way, then he makes his move. Goading, teasing, stoking that restlessness into fiery flames. The tryst will be a little – ah – _rough_ after that, but the pleasure is more than worth the effort.

The moment Fili sweeps into the chamber, he sees the tightness at Kili’s jaw and this tells him, more clearly than spoken words, that his brother is in a black mood. Fili takes another look at the frowning ministers surrounding Kili, and accurately guesses that they have been trying their level best to sway Kili from his decisions.

“What is the matter?” Fili says lightly.

Kili remains stiff-backed, gaze fixed blazingly on the far wall. He does not deign to answer.

So, one of the ministers does it for him. “Master Kili thinks we should aid the outskirt towns.” The disapproval in his tone is plain to hear.

“We should,” Kili counters tersely, still not looking at anyone. “We have an alliance with these towns of Men. If they are in trouble, we _should_ help. We may need their aid one day.”

Fili takes a moment to consider that. Then, he nods to the minister who spoke. “What are your reasons for refusal?”

“We do not have enough supplies to spare for the journey there and back. Our troops must not be wasted on such trivialities.”

Kili’s dark head snaps around then, and his gaze is narrowed. “I think that – ”

“Wait,” Fili silences him, and holds up one hand when Kili seeks to argue. “I agree with the ministers. We will not send troops.”

Kili’s scowl deepens. “And in what position do you command that?”

Fili holds his glare for a long, hard moment. Then he goes in for the kill. “As your elder. And your _Crown_ _Prince_.” He smiles for good measure.

Kili clamps his mouth shut and turns on his heels, striding out of the chamber without a further word.

++++++++++

Before he opens the door to their room, Fili takes in a deep, long breath. He’s taken it relatively far this time around. He’s never challenged and turned down Kili’s decision quite so openly and sharply in public before. Kili must be _livid_. And just thinking of that brings a turmoil of emotions to Fili’s mind – wryness, apprehension, and roiling, churning _lust_.

Fili opens the door and steps in fully. And he can’t say he’s surprised when he’s instantly seized and hurled against the nearest wall, with a long, hard body pressed up against him.

“I supposed you enjoyed that, _brother_ ,” Kili breathes against his lips, his eyes snapping with anger beneath his wild locks.

“Well,” Fili replies mildly. “A little, yes.” He grunts when Kili shoves him again.

“You used your rank against me.”

Ah. Kili does sound genuinely angry. In that case, there is placating to do. Fili tilts his head, let his eyes slide from Kili’s gaze, down to his lips, and up again. “What does it matter? I can use my rank _for_ you, if you prefer.”

Kili’s face remains hard for a long moment. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, his lips _curl_. “How so?” The first spark of desire slithers into his tone.

With a quick, well-practiced move, Fili flips them both and now he slams Kili up against the same wall – with slightly more force than necessary too, because the little brat deserves it. But he is smiling, and he doesn’t look away, as he slides down Kili’s rippling frame, lowering himself to his knees before his brother.

Above him, Kili’s breathing stutters in his chest, and he licks his lips. There is ferocious anticipation in his eyes already. Fili knows what he looks like now – the Crown Prince on his knees, subservient and compliant. Kili takes great satisfaction in having him like this, and so Fili indulges him, placing his hands on the top of Kili’s breeches.

“May I?” Fili whispers, keeping his face tilted upwards in idolisation. “Your Grace?”

The game begins in earnest now.

Kili’s hand seizes his jaw, and squeezes, a shade painfully. “Eager, are we, _wench_.”

Sighing, Fili nuzzles into the mound that is already tenting through Kili’s breeches. It is hard and _hot_ under his cheek, and Kili’s scent flows headily into his nose. He kisses that clothed bulge, entreatingly and hungrily. Then he looks up again at Kili, begging with his eyes, then his words, “I want this in my mouth, my lord. Please.”

“You may,” Kili laughs, a hoarse, guttural noise. “And be quick about it. I want your mouth put to its proper use.”

His fingers are not completely steady when they work on Kili’s laces, and it’s not entirely an act. They’ve been apart for a week and now it feels like a year as Fili works open his brother’s breeches. He hisses in his throat when Kili’s manhood is freed into his palm. It rouses to life in his hand like a stirring beast, twitching and lengthening, flesh growing taut with arousal.

Kili’s grip shifts to his hair, and yanks his head back to force his gaze up. “Open up,” the younger Dwarf snaps at him.

The blunt, meaty tip nudges against Fili’s lips, demanding entry. Obediently, Fili parts his lips, and he feels firm, moist flesh wedge into his mouth. He licks at it tentatively, tasting Kili on his tongue, and drawing an appreciative groan from above. Kili allows him just a moment to take in a breath and quell the reflexive urge to gag, before the rest of that erect shaft follows, pushing into his mouth until it lodges deep in his throat, and coarse hair tickles at Fili’s chin.

Kili is taking great, panting breaths now, his head bowed, eyes riveted on Fili. He will not look away, or miss any moment of the sight of his brother’s lips stretched helplessly around his erection.

“You’re more beautiful like this, perhaps, my _brother-slut_ ,” Kili smiles darkly. “With my cock in your mouth.”

His jaw aches, but the insides of his mouth are alive with the taste and feel of Kili. Fluid dribbles from the cockhead, and he swallows the bitter-saltiness instinctively. Kili’s groan is sharp and unbidden. The younger Dwarf laughs again, and it sounds more like a gasp. His hands cradle Fili’s head.

“Ready yourself.”

The shaft in Fili’s mouth begins to move. Shallow thrusts at first, letting Fili feel its length and girth. Soft noises reverberate from Fili, both his gasping at the way the cock seems to grow even larger, pressing against the walls of his throat, and his urging at Kili to get going.

“Mahal…” Kili manages through teeth gritted hard. “The way you look, Fili…” His hips buck forward, and he begins to thrust harder and faster, his cock shoving in and out of Fili’s mouth with scarcely a pause between.

Fili. Crown Prince. Heir of Durin. Lover. And when their game begins, he can also be brother-slut for Kili. Because he can, and  he wants to. And in a buried, secret part of him, it thrills him and Kili both to toy with power over each other. Even now, with his tongue sliding along Kili’s length with each brutal pump, and his hands rising tremblingly to cup Kili’s buttocks, they are baiting each other.

Their locked gazes are a constant, charged connection. Kili, with his groans weakened and broken apart by urgent pants, keeping his hands supporting Fili’s head and to command him to _open up wider_ , and _take it, wench,_ whichever whim he so delights in. Below, Fili’s hands run encouragingly over Kili’s thighs and buttocks, revelling in the way those long, hard muscles flex and bunch under his palms, each movement punctuated by Kili’s cockhead digging at the back of his throat. A particularly heavy lunge jostles his head back, his hair wrenching painfully against Kili’s grip, but he holds on, relaxing his jaw into the punishing rhythm. Between his own legs, Fili’s swelling erection strains against cloth, and his loins are heavy with lust.

The pace grows erratic, Kili’s thrusts near wild now as he nears his release. His hands convulse at Fili’s hair, and he holds Fili’s head still for the last few strokes, his cock undulating as deeply in Fili’s mouth as possible. Then Kili cries out, eyes tearing away from Fili and squeezing shut. His hands abruptly lift from Fili and his fingernails rend into the wall instead. Fili backs off just in time as the first spurt from Kili’s cock hits the back of his throat. He swallows it quickly, and the next few spurts that follow, the ropes of fluid hot and thick in his mouth.

When at last it gets too much, Fili reluctantly releases the cock from his mouth and caresses it with one hand instead, soothing Kili’s release until the pulsing eases and the flesh softens. That had been intense; Fili can only imagine how much pent-up tension his brother is burdened with.

As they both rest, he stays on his knees still, resting one aching cheek against Kili’s thigh, smiling to himself when Kili’s fingers curl into his braids and tug. Playfully. A little sorry, perhaps, for being a rough little brute.

++++++++++

That had been incredible – and over too quickly. During hurried trysts like these, all prowess and endurance are entirely abandoned. Kili looks down now, and had it not been for his climax just a heartbeat ago, he thinks he would have grown hard again, just watching Fili’s face nuzzling into his groin, his lips veering dangerously close to Kili’s sated member. It is not in Fili’s nature to submit himself, and the fact that he chooses to do so for Kili is something Kili guards as jealously as life itself.

Kili reaches down a hand to tousle those golden braids and Fili looks up at him with a coy sparkle in his azure eyes. There are milky-white streaks on the braids above his lips, and Fili looks lovely like _that_ , with Kili’s seed decorating his face. He also looks like an obedient pet as he pulls Kili’s breeches up to be laced.

Once Fili is finished with his task, Kili tells him “Up” in a firm, quiet tone. And when Fili is slow to rise from his cramped legs, Kili takes him under the arms and hauls him to his feet. Kili won’t get aroused again immediately, but that is not to say his desire is entirely _satiated_. In light of that little display of princely power just now, just fucking Fili’s mouth isn’t quite enough to quell that flame in his insides.

His movements are urgent and fierce as he moves Fili backwards, his hands ripping at his brother’s breeches at the same time. Almost stumbling, Fili’s whole body jerks as his laces and yanked loose and his breeches shoved down, and he gasps when the backs of his knees hit wood and linen and he pitches backwards onto the bed.

Kili just studies his brother with an intense, ravenous gaze as Fili sprawls on his back at the edge of the bed, his usually graceful movements made clumsy by his breeches tangling at the boots. His coat has swung open, and his shirt now rides up his torso, leaving him naked from waist below. His thighs are still crossed, covering what little is left of his modesty, and he stares up at Kili with a half-uncertain, half-coquettish expression.

There are no further instructions from that point forward. What Kili wants, Fili is aware of. It is up to Fili to decide what his next move should be. As if in silent defiance, Fili just holds his gaze without a word. Then, something flickers across the steeliness in his eyes, and he relaxes into the bed, spreading his arms out and slowly, his legs, to reveal the temptation between his thighs for Kili’s viewing pleasure. His erect member lies thick and flushed against his groin, twitching as it hardens fully.

Fili’s gaze grows heavy-lidded at Kili’s approach towards the bed, eyelashes lowering to dust his cheeks. Despite his efforts, a blush now rises on his skin. It deepens over his cheeks as Kili kneels down between his thighs and moves forward until his face hovers right above his erection. It is so very red now, a curved, wanton shaft against the white of his skin.

“Shall I be gentle with you?” Kili says softly now, and he’s not sure himself if he’s addressing Fili, or the sweet cock aching to be touched. He bends his head towards those smooth mounds below and closes his lips around them, cradling them in the warm cavern of his mouth. Fili’s thighs quiver and he makes a sound of protest; he’s always been a little too sensitive there. So Kili caresses them ever so softly with his tongue, bathing them with wet heat, and it doesn’t take long before Fili sighs and spreads himself wider to be devoured.

He hears Fili call his name in the midst of needy moans, begging him. When he is satisfied playing with those spheres, Kili lets them slip out of his mouth, and turns to the shaft already jutting out from Fili’s crotch. He circles the base with his fingers, holding it firmly, and waits for Fili’s glazed eyes to focus on him, before he lays a flurry of open-mouthed, wet kisses along its length.

Fili’s hips grind into the bed as he tries to thrust up to no avail. It is slow, delicious torment, Kili knows, and such is the manner his brother must be unravelled. It will be Kili, and only Kili, who sees his face like this, twisted in pleasure, and his body roused and fondled until it trembles with longing. He holds Fili’s member in his palm now, and rubs his lips and tongue slowly up and down the underside of it, savouring the little veins he finds, increasing the pressure of his mouth until Fili writhes helplessly beneath him.

His brother and Crown Prince, now a wench under his touch. “Kili…finish it, Ki…” the golden Dwarf can hardly speak past the little cries spilling from his throat.

“In time,” Kili chuckles against the flesh at his lips, moving his mouth up until it is right below the swollen cockhead. “We’ll see how wet you can get, brother,” he says and slides his tongue over the glistening slit. He does this a few more times, liking the whimper he gets every time he licks up a pearly drop. There is a measure of deviousness in this; he takes devilish enjoyment in making Fili come apart. But as Fili gasps desperately, he is moved to pity and finally wraps his lips around the whole cockhead.

Fili jerks so hard Kili’s mouth almost slips off, but he just cradles that heated flesh more securely in his mouth and begins to suckle it, beginning a sweet rhythm that has Fili’s body arching like a bow. The rest of that shaft is wrapped in his hand, and he drags his palm across it in firm strokes, in time to each knead of that cockhead in his mouth.

His brother’s voice is just a tumble of mewls now, pretty sounds like that from a sobbing little creature. “Kili… _Kili_ …” He cries out. “Let me come…let me…” Even now, half-mad with arousal, he restrains himself from touching his own body or Kili, digging his fingers into the sheets instead. He cedes all control to Kili, willing to wait for release at Kili’s command, though he is so very near weeping with the need to come.

In the last few moments, Kili pulls his mouth off, and just pumps his brother’s cock. Deep, rapid drags of his hand, while he coaxes it with filthy urging. “Want to see you come, Fili…don’t hold back now…”

The first spatters seem to take Fili by surprise. Tossing his head, Fili claws into the sheets even as his cock jumps in Kili’s hand, spewing milky strings on his belly and his shirt. His mouth is open and making the most enticing whimpers in the throes of his climax. His eyes are shut so tightly, but they snap open in shock just a moment later, when Kili takes his softening member into his mouth again.

“Kili…” Fili’s hands clutch at his hair now, all his resolve shattered, and his mind blown.

Kili just holds his wrists, while his mouth gently sucks, draining the remnants of Fili’s seed from his cock into his throat, and easing only when Fili sobs at the overload of sensations. When he finally releases Fili from that tormenting pleasure, the golden Dwarf is almost senseless on the bed, face and body damp with perspiration, quite incapable of moving for a while. So, Kili does the same as Fili had done for him. He tucks Fili back into his breeches and rearranges his attire into order. However, he leaves the traces of their pleasure on Fili still, as a little reminder of their coupling.

Now he leans over Fili, braced on his hands, and let himself be yanked down and flipped over on the bed so that Fili is perched over him.

“Still angry?” Fili teases, hooking his chin onto Kili’s shoulder.

“No,” Kili scoffs, then grins and adds slyly, “Not after I made you cry.”

“I didn’t cry,” now Fili sounds his usual imperious self.

“No, you didn’t cry. You were _bawling_ my name.”

“Brat.”

“Baby.”

They laugh and snuggle a little closer to each other. Silence reigns for a while, before Fili says softly, “I already sent word to our settlements near the outskirts. They would do what they can for the towns you so worry about.”

Kili rears backwards so that he can _look_ into Fili’s face. His brother is laughing. Kili can feel his own face splitting into a wide grin. “You tricked me.”

Fili raises an eyebrow. “It cannot be helped. You are frighteningly gullible.”

Ignoring him, Kili is beginning to move already. He presses Fili back onto the bed, and clambers over him. “How shall I reward you?” His voice lowers with _meaning_.

“By being an exemplary brother-Prince,” Fili snorts wryly, but gives himself away by the faint crimson dusting over his cheeks. “And not letting me leave the bed until I’m sore.”

“Excellent idea,” Kili agrees whole-heartedly. “Was thinking the same myself.”

There is little talk afterwards, and all that drift from the chamber, are the soft sounds of pleasure.

 

_finis_

* * *

_  
_   



	4. A Deflowering (Dwalin/Fili, virgin!Fili)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Fili's first time, and somehow, despite all the things they did during sex, the part that makes him blush uncontrollably is afterwards when Dwalin is gently probing at him to make sure there's no tearing or other damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for this prompt : http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8478.html?thread=18273054#t18273054

** A Deflowering **

Lips press into warm, sweaty cheek. “Does it hurt?” Dwalin says in a low growl. He feels perspiration running in rivulets down his own back and his muscles flexing as he holds himself utterly still.

The skin beneath his lips seems to grow even hotter. “No,” his young lover shakes his head, and his golden braids plaster to his skin.

He digs in his hips and feels his shaft slide yet another inch into that wet, molten cavern. His pleasure escalates and his control slips even more dangerously. It is not in his nature to go slow. He fucks the way he fights – hard, rough, mad. But he is gentle now – or rather, as gentle as he can possibly manage with his cock almost all the way buried inside his lover.

Golden. Beautiful. _Prince_.

Fili’s hands are white-knuckled where they clench into the bed railings. “More. Inside me,” his head turns urgently and Dwalin catches a glimpse of his eyes. The colour of skies in summer. As sweet and pure as the rest of him.

Dwalin had deflowered his share of willing, virginal bodies. But none as beguiling and eager as this one. Fili in bed is the way he is in life. He plunges into it with a youthful, brash, and almost cocky exhilaration. Yet earlier, as Dwalin teased and stroked and prepared his flesh for the penetration, the lad had become bashful. And _that_ aroused Dwalin more so than all the sweet suppleness of the lad’s body.

Kissing Fili again on the cheek, he pushes in until he is completely sheathed inside the young prince’s passage.

“Ungh!” Fili gasps, head bowing from the deep, aching fullness of penetration.

Dwalin lets him ease into the pain. There will be pain and a lot of it.

Now the Fili’s arms are beginning to shake, but his voice is sure when he says, “Move, Dwalin. I won’t break.”

Good lad. He draws out – slowly – and grinds his teeth as he feels the drag of slick, hot walls around his cock. And he thrusts inside again, just a little faster. He’s close to losing his mind to the painstakingly slow pace. Beneath him, Fili moans, and it is such an enticing sound. Dwalin pulls out again.

“It hurts,” the lad murmurs between little whimpers in his throat.

Just for that, Dwalin almost loses all control and lunge back in like a beast. He squeezes his eyes shut, reminding himself that his young, golden prince isn’t ready yet. Taking Fili’s face in one hand, he turns the lad’s lips to his own and kisses him until Fili’s mouth surrenders entirely to him. Below, Dwalin bucks his hips back and forth in quick, shallow thrusts, deepening when he finally feels Fili’s body spreading open.

After one hard shove, the boy’s whole body jolts as though he’s been whipped. His eyes are wide and colour stains his cheek. Dwalin mouths at his temple. “That felt good? You liked that?” he rumbles, and he knows his smirk is as wolfish as it feels on his own face.

Fili glares back at him – as menacing as he can with his body writhing beneath Dwalin’s. “That depends on whether you can do it again – and – ” his petulant reply ends in a helpless groan as Dwalin pistons his hips and does it _again_ , his cock finding that mark that would pleasure the boy despite the pain.  

“Ohh…” Fili’s sigh is throaty and brimming with desire.

Bracing one hand on the sheets, Dwalin wraps his other arm around the lad’s waist, keeping his arse raised. The warrior stares down at their joined bodies now, marvelling at the sight of firm buttocks cradled against his loins, and his own shaft disappearing in and out between those rounded swells. Now the boy is hurrying up the pace himself, lifting his arse into every thrust, and he is gripping his own member, pumping it feverishly to the rhythm of their coupling.

He doesn’t let his control shatter completely yet – there are other trysts in future for that. Closing his eyes yet again, Dwalin takes long, full strokes, speeding up as he hears Fili’s cry in the throes of his climax. The lad’s body clenches all around him, urging him on, and Dwalin gives in to his own need, flexing harder and harder until he is all but shuddering, and his cock spilling copious fluids deep into Fili.

“Dwalin – ” the lad mewls and squirms throughout Dwalin’s release. And when Dwalin opens his eyes, he sees that Fili’s face is turned and he is watching him with a curious sort of wonder and embarrassment. “It’s – ” he begins and falters.

Leaning down tiredly, Dwalin hooks his chin over Fili’s shoulder and bites kisses down the boy’s jawline. “It’s wet?” he suggests, rolling his hips several times to emphasise the squishy slide of seed and softening flesh inside Fili’s passage.

Fili scowls at the warrior’s crudeness, but it isn’t very long before he is grinning again. “That was good,” he concedes.

“Only good?” Dwalin intones, raising one eyebrow.

The lad actually chuckles in reply. “Well, I’ll bed a few others, so I can compare.”

In return for that little display of impudence, Dwalin smacks the boy sharply on one arsecheek.

Fili’s response is greater than expected. He winces, biting down on his lip.

Realising that the pain isn’t from the smacking, but from inside Fili, Dwalin takes the lad’s hips and tugs gently. “Lie down,” he says as he drags a pillow underneath Fili.

“Wha – ?” the young Dwarf blinks in confusion. But he obeys, lowering himself until he is flat on his front, with his lower body raised by the pillow. Once Dwalin’s palms are on his buttocks, the lad seems to understand then what the warrior means to do. “I’m – I’m all right, Dwalin. Really,” he insists, then falters when Dwalin ignores his protests and prises his arsecheeks apart.

“I’m checking for damage,” Dwalin tells him firmly, leaving no room for argument. He isn’t small by any means, and Fili is a virgin after all. There may be slight tearing, and while that isn’t life-threatening, the pain _there_ will mean Fili moving with discomfort for days.

So now he checks. Opening the lad up with his hands, he carefully studies the little furl of muscle that is revealed to him. It looks reddened and ravished from that not-completely-gentle ploughing by Dwalin’s manhood.

“ _Dwalin_!” Fili sounds mortified.

A flick of Dwalin’s glance towards the lad also informs him that Fili’s face has turned a bright red. Hoh. After all the kissing and fondling, plenty of which Dwalin had carried out between the lad’s thighs, together with the actual penetration from earlier, and the one thing that makes the lad blush like a little maiden is _this_? Dwalin’s post-coupling inspection of his arsehole.

A smirk curls on Dwalin’s lips, and darkens to a leer as he tells the lad in no uncertain terms that he needs to check _inside_ for any possible injury. Fili sputters and blushes even more furiously, but he grows still and buries his face in his hands to stifle his whimpers as Dwalin circles his thumb carefully around that oversensitised little ring.

“Does this hurt?” he asks.

“No!”

Now he pulls Fili’s arsehole just a little apart, and slides one finger inside, feeling how the flesh sucks him in readily. Hot slickness envelops his finger as he rubs it thoroughly around Fili’s channel. “And this?”

“N..no…” there is a moan in Fili’s voice.

Satisfied now, Dwalin withdraws his finger, pressing nipping kisses over the boy’s buttocks as he does so. “Good,” he declares, straightening from his bent position.

Fili doesn’t move. His face is still hidden in the sheets. It is only when Dwalin sprawls down on the bed next to him that he turns over and curls into the warrior’s broad chest. “I’m – ” he says very sheepishly, glancing down.

Dwalin looks down too – and stares. Between the boy’s legs, his young cock has stiffened a little, and looks ready to go on its way to full hardness.

“It’s your fault, you know,” Fili tells him very matter-of-factly.

It is, indeed. Dwalin has quite forgotten how easily young Dwarves get stimulated. And well, aroused so soon after a round of thorough fucking.

“Later,” Dwalin barks. Just before he takes the rest he reluctantly needs, he hears Fili toss out another demand:

“I’m not sleeping tonight until you sort this out.”

Damned young Dwarves.

 

_finis_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I could have stretched this out, I know, but I can't work up the energy for a long fic. So, here you go. A short, smutty fic to get my fix of Dwalin/ Fili.


	5. Gold Sickness (Thorin/Fili, Dwarves/Fili, dub-con, gold fever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: DUBIOUS CONSENT**
> 
>  
> 
> Gold sickness grows in Thorin. He loves watching Fili get fucked by other Dwarves and fucking him once they’re all done. The world may touch the gold that is Fili, but he will only belong to Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for this prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19096845#t19096845

** Gold Sickness **

Sometimes he’s content just to watch. Hair like liquid gold streaming all over pale sheets and curling towards him. Calling to him. There’s something so pure in it. Like the promise of a fair virgin. Sweet and glowing and alluring. Then, watching isn’t enough anymore. It makes him tighten his arms around the lad in a sudden fit of jealousy fury. _His own_.

The flinch from Fili is unbidden and it just goads him on even more, reaching down between the lad’s thighs and greedily grasping the soft, young cock he finds. He strokes Fili until he is unbearably hard and gasping so helplessly. _Please, please, Uncle_. He drags it out for long moments, not letting Fili reach completion until he _says it_. Still, Fili resists, fists clenched into the sheets and whimpering deep in his throat, closing his eyes as if he can shut out the relentless pleasure of Thorin’s hand tugging over his arousal. The fight does not last.

_I’m yours._

It’s always a strange feeling when Fili says that. Something in Thorin seems to come alive and die a little at the same time. Like inhaling slow poison. Thorin pumps his hand faster and harder, feeling wetness leak over his knuckles now. _Again_. He’ll never tire of hearing those words from Fili.

 _Yours, yours._ Fili screams it over and over as he comes, choking on his own cries when Thorin’s hand silences his lips. The lad is limp and shaking like a leaf when he can move again after his blinding climax, and Thorin holds him close, nuzzling his hair.

He’d been horrified the first few times. Seared by yearning and near-drunk on rage, he had taken Fili to his bed. The boy had struggled at first, yet he moaned like a wench as he spilled his completion against Thorin’s stomach. And after, when all was done, Thorin’s eyes focused and he saw – _truly saw_ his own sister-son curled in his embrace, pleasured and ravaged by his own hand. He retched until all he tasted was bile in his mouth. He even stayed away for months, returning only when Fili came to him and pleaded with him to come home. Fili never told –

And never stayed away.

So Thorin allowed himself to do it again, and _liked_ it.  And if he had been loathed at how easily he did so, he no longer remembers it now. Not when he’s also discovered that he wants the world to know that they may touch this gold and never own it.

He bids Fili to get on all fours. It is unceremonious and inelegant, yet there is innate grace to Fili’s movements. He waits on his hands and knees, facing Thorin. He is still slender with youth and rippling with sleek muscles, his nakedness displayed for the spectators like an offering. And with his head bowed in submission, he is achingly beautiful.

“Spread yourself,” Thorin commands him.

Fili hesitates just for a moment, then as always, obeys without question. His knees move apart and every secret of his body is bared for those hungered gazes crowding around him. They see all too clearly his firm buttocks and the blushing bud between the swells. Fili shifts again, as if he wants to cover himself in shame. His thighs tremble from the sheer effort of keeping himself still and open.

Reaching out with his fingers, Thorin curls them into a golden lock at Fili’s cheek. He brings it to his lips, kissing those cool strands. “None shall touch this but me,” he says and takes Fili’s chin in his other palm. The lad’s face is tilted up and Thorin searches his eyes.

Oh there is resistance, but even more so, Thorin sees the lad’s eventual acceptance and to his amusement, a _challenge_. They are both remembering that occasion when a soldier forgot himself and seized Fili’s hair. Thorin had ordered his hand cut off and presented to Fili on a platter to appease the lad. He would do it again if he has to.

As if satisfied with what promise there is in Thorin’s gaze, Fili lowers his head again with a sigh and splays himself even wider. The flesh between his thighs begins to stiffen.

It makes _the others_ hover even nearer to the bed, an audience at this unholy ritual. The air is greasy with lust, and the soldiers’ breaths are held. But they know better than to touch without permission from their King. They are his closest guards and even presented with such temptation, they know to wait. But their eyes do what their hands cannot, roving over every inch of the sweet princeling, and delving deep into his body.

Gaze flicking up, Thorin nods to the nearest soldier, smiling darkly at his haste at being allowed the first touch. Rough, scarred fingers are coated with oil, before they grope feverishly at Fili’s buttocks. Thorin hears the soldier’s groan as he finds that twitching entrance and plunges his fingers inside. The gasp from Fili is muffled by Thorin’s mouth.

The jealousy rears again, a sharp, ugly clench in his heart. Thorin delights in the parading of his trophy, as if Fili is a prize to be coveted. But he also _hates_ all who dare lay hands on what belongs to him. It is a fine and dangerous line Thorin treads with his soldiers – a game of bait where the last move may mean death.

Yet they still participate. For even the most fleeting taste of the King’s gold is worth the sickness that follows.

The preparation is perfunctory, nothing more than a prologue of the true reward. When that thick, meaty flesh finally breaches into Fili, he keens in his throat, head nestling into Thorin’s shoulder as if seeking comfort.

Thorin indulges him for a while. After all, he is still a lad and he is barely able to hold himself up under the massive bulk of the soldier. Then, Thorin decides it is enough and nudges Fili’s head up so he can see every emotion to play across his pretty face. Golden eyelashes are fluttering wildly, and ragged pants escape the lad’s mouth every time the soldier pulls out and thrusts back into him.

“You’re hard,” Thorin whispers into his ear, and likes the flush staining Fili’s cheeks at that. The boy cannot hide his desire, his rock-hard shaft making soft, lewd slaps against his own belly as the soldier ruts into him.

“Would you like to come?” Thorin asks him, growling a laugh when Fili shakes his head _no_.

He orders the soldier to stand down, then, and the next to line himself up behind Fili. None is permitted to finish inside the princeling. It is part of this sweet torture. They may taste, but never take the lad in the most intimate manner. That is the right of the King.

There is a second, then a third, a fourth, and the fifth, who pulls Fili’s hips up and nearly unravels him with an unerring stab. The lad is near delirious now, trapped and teetering on the edge of release. But he will not let himself come, not unless it is _Thorin_. So he quivers and bites his lip raw, and begs Thorin with needy mewls.

Thorin lets him suffer just a little more, because he can, but not for long. His own arousal strains in his breeches, aching for his boy.

“Fili,” he says.

Hearing his unspoken command, the last soldier pulls out of Fili, his chest rumbling in unfulfillment. But he does not dare linger and he is quick to defer to the authority of the King. Feeling particularly generous, Thorin allows him to stay on the bed. This soldier is a mighty specimen of their race, broad and strong and fierce, one that Thorin may deign to take to bed if the occasion arises.

“Come here, Fili,” he beckons with one hand.

The lad does his best. Knees almost slipping on the sheets, hands unsteady as he crawls over to Thorin. Thorin wastes no time now. In a quick, sudden move, he grasps Fili and flips him around, pressing their bodies chest to back, and locking one massive arm around his boy. With his other hand, he tears free his own breeches and releases his erection. It springs up, large and proud, and he nudges his cockhead right against the lad’s entrance.

Well-oiled and loosened from the earlier penetrations, the tender hole is no resistance for Thorin as he sinks into the boy. Fili’s eyes are wide, almost as if surprised, and his blush deepens with each inch of Thorin’s cock that his passage swallows up. _This beautiful, sweet gold_. Thorin buries himself to the hilt and groans into soft, damp neck. The boy is entirely limp in his arms, drained of strength, helpless to his own ravishment.

Moving his hands to Fili’s legs, Thorin nods to the soldier to come forward and comfort his prince. He watches, with sick fascination, as the soldier’s rough bearded face burrows between Fili’s legs, and his cock seems to throb even harder deep inside Fili. The boy moans in protest, the soft skin of his inner thighs reddened and oversensitised, but Thorin hushes him, tightening his hold when Fili instinctively seeks to close his legs.

“Watch,” he orders quietly, winding a hand into Fili’s hair and keeping his head in place.

A tongue slithers out first to lave over the fluid leaking from the moist slit. Then, lips clamp around the swollen, pulsing head of Fili’s erection.

“Slowly now,” Thorin says now into the softness right below Fili’s jaw, while the boy sobs and writhes on his lap from the torture of slow, wet suction engulfing his cock. His eyes are open through it all, surrendering to the sight of himself disappearing into the soldier’s mouth, and the maddening grind of Thorin’s member inside him.

Not until Fili’s shaft is entirely swallowed by the soldier, does Thorin begin to move. He does not allow the boy any control, seizing his legs and holding his weight as he fucks into him in deep, full lunges, every one of them forcing Fili’s cock in and out of its heated prison. This will not last. Fili’s head lolls back onto his shoulder, only managing pitiful whimpers at a hard jostle, and when the soldier begins to suckle hungrily from him.

Even Fili’s scream is strangled when he finally comes, his hands clawing desperately at the soldier’s beard as he pours himself down that sinful throat. Thorin lets the Dwarf drinks all he wants from Fili, draining him dry, before the boy’s sated flesh is released, now dripping with seed and saliva. Thorin picks up the pace now, his rhythm lost to raging need, and he is brutal, slamming up into Fili and dragging his hips down into every thrust.

At last, Thorin hurtles over the precipice, his vision white and red and the gold of Fili’s hair. And there is a single beat of pure silence – free from sickness and loving his golden sister-son without sin – and it disappears as he rides out his completion. He rolls lazily against the boy’s rump a few more times, already regretful that this savage pleasure is ending.

The soldiers retreat from the room, and the chamber is enshrouded in privacy once more.

He turns Fili in his embrace and asks the question he always asks after a session. “Do you want to leave?”

The hesitation from Fili grows shorter with each night they rut. Now, he pauses just a heartbeat before he says, “No.” And his mouth opens readily for Thorin’s kiss.

Every shred of Fili’s will is now his to keep. Beyond their chamber, they would be King and Prince still, never once cracking in their collective façade even in front of Kili. But in here, on Thorin’s bed, there can only be ownership.

Thorin does not need to say _mine_ this time, for the sickness is complete.

 

_finis_

* * *

_  
_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After four months of abstinence from the fandom, I just wanna, you know, make Fili suffer a bit. Because well, he's pretty when he's ravaged. Just saying.


	6. Honey and Cream (Beorn/Fili, rimming, oral, size kink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: oral, rimming, size kink**
> 
> Fili is mesmerised by the enormous skin-changer and pays him a visit in the dead of the night. Beorn then proceeds to thoroughly ravish the young Dwarf by fingering him with his huge fingers, using beeswax, and later rimming the hell out of that sweet little hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for this prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=21035263#t21035263

** Honey and Cream **

Beorn stands taller than any Man or Elf Fili has ever seen, and even in his human form, resembles a bear with his craggy features and heavy beard. Yet he is a benevolent soul, living with his horses, and eating only honey and cream. In the morning, he had fed the Dwarves sweet mead and bread and agreed to help, though he had also thought them only a little better than Orcs.

And he cradled that tiny mouse so carefully in his massive hands, Fili wonders how it would feel to have the same hands on _himself_.

Is that why he’s out here now, away from the rest of his Company, and sneaking up to that mysterious skin-changer? His heart beating so hard he’s sure someone would hear him, Fili slips out of the main hall of Beorn’s abode and heads towards the back. He’s seen Beorn disappear into a little chamber there, where his horses come freely to him.

He almost misses Beorn, enormous as the man is. In the shadow of a great wooden pillar, the skin-changer sits upright, his legs like logs where they rest on the ground, and his arms folded on his stomach. His face is turned towards the moonlit landscape beyond the window, and his eyes closed in slumber. At least, Fili _thinks_ it’s slumber. He studies the slow rise and fall of the man’s great, thickly-muscled chest, and supposes it’s safe to approach.

Without making a sound, the young Dwarf creeps towards the skin-changer twice his size and height. If the Company knows what he’s doing now, he’d never hear the end of it. And that is the laughable part of this whole endeavour. Fili himself has little idea what exactly he’s doing at the moment, and why. He just knows that he is fascinated with this strange creature, and somehow, _he wants more_. 

Now he stands before Beorn, scrutinising him with astonishment. Up close, the man seems even bigger, if possible. Fili stares at him, feeling a strange heat sliding down his spine. He is so absorbed that he does not see the twitch in Beorn’s hand and its sudden movement, until he is seized by the front of his coat. Huge, long fingers curl into the fabric and lift Fili up, _bodily_ , so that the Dwarf now dangles before Beorn like a puppet.

Gasping, Fili’s first instinct is to reach for the dagger inside his coat, but he goes rigid at the warning grunt from the skin-changer, and the expression in those forest-dark eyes. Forcing himself to remain calm, Fili stills himself completely – and waits.

“ _The golden Dwarf_ ,” Beorn says, his voice a whisper, yet deep and thick and rumbling. His free hand rises to Fili’s hair and brushes across it. The touch is remarkably delicate for a man of his size, and Fili’s trepidation eases a little. He does not fear for his life, for the Company is near, but he has his concerns about being able to fend off a bear-sized man if it comes down to that.

Beorn lowers his head to look intently into Fili’s face. “ _Why do you come to me at this hour?_ ”

Fili licks his lips; they feel dry all of a sudden. He’s done this before with fellow Dwarves, both men and women, and he is reasonably sure he would not be denied, no matter how implausible the situation. He is being foolish now, in all honesty. After all, they’d been on the run from Orcs and Wargs, and ferried by Eagles just several nights ago. But desire is now raging through his nerves, and he wants to be quenched of it. He cannot bed anyone in the Company. Half of them have watched him grow up from babe to man, and the other half think of him as Thorin’s sister-son, the Crown Prince of Ered Luin. The Hobbit is of too nervous a disposition, and Gandalf – well, Fili would rather have his manhood shrivel up and die rather than propositioning the Grey Wizard and possibly being roasted alive by fireworks.

Fili looks at Beorn again and clears his throat. “Well, I offer you my services.” Somehow, that comes out sounding ridiculous even to Fili’s ears. When Beorn stares at him bemusedly for a long moment, Fili sighs and steels his resolve. “I offer you _myself_ ,” he blurts in a rush of breath.

Does that make any more sense than what he said before? Fili fidgets in the unrelenting grip of the skin-changer, and feels his face grow hot when the other man begins to shake with mirth. It feels the same way it did when Fili first marched up to an older Dwarf and requested a kiss. He’d always believed in being direct about these things, and yes, he _had_ gotten his kiss, though that Dwarf had also laughed in amusement at Fili’s brazen request. For several overly-long moments, Fili watches in frustration as Beorn just, well, keeps chortling like Fili’s told him a joke. It must seem funny, on hindsight. A huge skin-changer seduced by a little Dwarf, but Fili doesn’t think it’s particularly hilarious _right now_.

“If you don’t want me,” Fili snaps finally, struggling for the first time since he was grasped and held aloft. “Then let me go.”

“ _I did not say that_.”

Fili stills again, but this time, his heart begins to pound a little faster. “Oh?” he replies eloquently, trying his best to retain his composure. “So you _do_ want me?” He pushes his luck, and breathes in sharply when Beorn sets him down on his _lap_.

Beneath Fili, the skin-changer’s cloth-covered thighs are massive, and Fili’s legs have to be sprawled wide open just for him to straddle them. The warmth emanating from Beorn’s body is also palpable, worming under Fili’s attire and making him feel too _hot_ in his skin. He swallows as Beorn’s face bends towards him, the breaths from the man felt as heated gusts across Fili’s cheek.

“ _You are small_ ,” Beorn grunts, and now he angles his head to press his face against Fili’s throat.

The young Dwarf has to arch his head back to accommodate the much larger man and he cannot help shivering as he is deeply smelled and nosed and nuzzled against. “ _Soft_ ,” Beorn growls quietly into his skin. Already Fili’s body is reacting, his breeches growing tight across the front.

“Touch me?” Fili murmurs. He knows how he sounds now, as though he is pleading. But he has been pent up for a while now, and the thought of being handled by this mysterious giant of a man mesmerises him, and _thrills_ him in that secret, carefully-buried part of him.

Again Beorn studies him out of that undecipherable gaze. Then in a move so sudden it leaves Fili breathless, he takes Fili’s legs and hauls them up to rest on his shoulders. The young Dwarf is flat on his back, blinking up dazedly at Beorn like a startled kitten. But his senses return rapidly to him when Beorn stares down at his displayed crotch with something like dark _want_ in his eyes.

“ _Remove them_ ,” the skin-changer commands, still in that quiet rumble of his, but his tone domineering and allowing no argument.

Fili swallows dryly again. He is hardening beneath his breeches, and _he’s not even been touched there yet_. Hands unsteady, he unlaces his breeches as swiftly as he can, and pushes them down his hips. That is as far as they can go and Beorn resolves his dilemma, one hand taking hold of Fili’s undone breeches and tugging them over his legs until they are tangled around his boots. Pinned under Beorn’s darkening gaze, Fili wonders how he looks like to the skin-changer and immediately wishes he hadn’t. From the waist up, he still wears his fur-lined coat. Yet below his waist, he is nearly naked, except for the thin smallclothes still protecting his modesty, and his breeches around his boots. And those smallclothes are quickly losing their purpose as they begin to tent upwards with each pulse of Fili’s stiffening member. 

A flush begins to stain Fili’s cheeks. He’s not even naked but he’s never looked so – so _indecent_ in all his past dalliances. Above him, Beorn’s brows seem to grow even heavier, and a predatory gleam steals into his eyes. It seems almost to Fili that he can now see the bear-creature in the man’s demeanour – something untamed and unfettered. The Dwarf’s gaze widen as Beorn leans down to press his face into his hair.

“ _Like honey_ ,” the skin-changer groans into those golden tresses. He begins to nuzzle down Fili’s body, over the coat, down to the bare swathe of skin at the waist and hips, and stopping right at the apex of Fili’s splayed thighs. His gaze flicks up, trapping Fili in its intensity. “ _And perhaps your cream here will sate my hunger_.” With that, he takes Fili’s clothed bulge into his mouth.

The Dwarf whips his head back, desperately choking back his scream as he feels hot, squirming tongue slathering over his coiled erection. His eyes squeeze shut, clutching at his control even as pleasure floods his loins. He must not make a sound that would wake the others – Mahal, his hips cannot even thrust with his legs hiked up – and it is all he can do to lie there pinioned, taking in harsh, tearing breaths while Beorn’s thick lips squeeze again and again around his bulge to make him even harder, and hotter.

Then, it happens. Fili’s back snaps upwards like a bow and the blinding rush of release blanks his mind. He shoves his own fist against his mouth to stifle his cry, biting down when it seems he can no longer control his noises, his hips stuttering and jerking beneath Beorn’s head.

When the skin-changer finally raises his face, he looks _ravenous_ , his expression wild with the hunger of one who’s tasted treasure and now needs more. Looking around groggily, Fili realises he is _shaking_ where he lies on Beorn’s thighs. He raises his head, sees the state he is in now, and the flush on his cheeks creeps down his neck. His smallclothes are soaked with saliva and his own fluids, rendering the fabric lewdly translucent. And through it, his still half-hard shaft strains upwards, its leaking crown outlined plainly against the cloth.

“Beorn…” Fili hears himself moaning. He should be sated, yet it’s still not enough. He does not know why it is. Perhaps it is the danger of being pursued by the enemy, or him sensing that undercurrent of bestiality beneath Beorn’s human countenance – maybe all of those, he just does not know. But already, his body is stirring yet again.

Obliging them both, Beorn now lowers Fili’s legs from his shoulders, and turns his body around. His movements are rough, but he is careful not to hurt Fili. Legs still weak from his climax, Fili tries to orient himself as he is arranged onto his elbows and knees. Then it dawns on him. In this way, his buttocks are raised and exhibited like an offering to Beorn.

Fili knows he shouldn’t – it is scandalous and wrong – but it is _lust_ that overwhelms him at being so openly displayed. His breath stops in his chest when he feels Beorn’s fingers hooking just under the top of his smallclothes. But there they stay, not moving, and Fili turns his head in confusion. The skin-changer is staring right at him, his expression roiling with want and hunger. The Dwarf realises then that Beorn is seeking permission, and that it is as much gentleness as the man will spare him.

Trying to calm his breathing, Fili nods. “More,” he whispers, and has to rend his fingernails into Beorn’s breeches to steady himself as his smallclothes are slowly slid over his buttocks and down to his knees. He forces himself not to look away, keeping his gaze on Beorn even as his arse-cheeks are each gripped in a huge hand, and _pried apart_ to reveal that secret bud between. Mortified and terribly aroused, Fili drops his head then, unable to look, chewing his lip raw as he feels Beorn _snuffling_ at his exposed arsehole – inhaling his scent and his shame.

“ _I will fatten and sweeten you, little Dwarf_ ,” Beorn says in a guttural groan.

Fili has no idea what he means, but he doesn’t think he can be any more debauched than he already is. He hears Beorn taking out something from his vest and unscrewing what sounds like a jar. A musky fragrance of sweet hay and cured tobacco wafts into the air, mingling with the cloying smells of filthy rutting.

“ _Beeswax_ ,” Beorn explains, and that is as much wondering Fili is allowed, for his back is arching in the next heartbeat as something probes into his hole. It is blunt and large, and Fili only realises it is Beorn’s _finger_ when it pops free inside him. The young Dwarf is allowed a fleeting moment to brace himself, before the finger digs into him, squeezing through his channel until it is knuckle-deep inside him. Behind him, Beorn sighs deeply, seeming to relish the feel of Fili twitching and quivering around him.

Breathing sharply, Fili does not let a sound escape him. He’s done this before; his past lovers had enjoyed fingering him open. But he gives in and groans when Beorn pulls out his finger, and penetrates him again with _two_. Oh Mahal, they are _huge_. Wider than even Dwarven fingers, and much, much longer. Even with the beeswax easing the way, Fili feels every inch as they burrow into him. There they stay, wedged fully inside him, filling him up so completely. When they begin to move, Fili have to clutch fistfuls of Beorn’s breeches. The fingers are merciful, yet cruel at the same time. They slide in and out of his hole excruciatingly slowly, each push shoving Fili forwards, and each drag yanking his hips back. And they twist inside him, coating his inner-walls with beeswax with such thoroughness Fili’s knees can barely keep him upright.

“Please…” Fili manages through gritted teeth, trying not to hear how close to whimpering he is. He turns his head again, imploring with his gaze. “ _Please_ …” He falters and wants to scream in frustration. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for, except he’s so aching and _full_ , he can barely take it anymore.

Beorn shakes his great head. “ _Hush, little Dwarf. You are not ripe enough_.” But he does begin to remove his fingers from Fili’s arse. His thumbs, however, are still firmly embedded inside Fili’s cleft, keeping his buttocks splayed and the little pucker within bared and vulnerable. “ _I must sweeten you yet_.”

Beorn’s tongue flicks out and drags across Fili’s entrance.

The whimper tears free from Fili’s lips and he crushes his face into his arms to stifle himself. For the next few moments, that is all he manages, shaking on his knees and mewling into his own hands as Beorn’s tongue circles his hole in wet licks, before delving inside him. Wriggling and slurping greedily, that large, slippery muscle works Fili open, sliding deeper and deeper into him until Fili is writhing helplessly on his lap. Massive hands now grip Fili’s hips, lifting him up and _back_ into that cunning tongue lashing back and forth inside him.

Face-down and near mad with pleasure, Fili can only claw at Beorn’s breeches as that undulating pressure inside him rakes across that deepest well of him. White-hot sparks jitter across his vision and his cock, trapped against Beorn’s belly, swiftly swells into full hardness.

He cannot – bear this much longer. His erection is so heavy and full and his testes are beginning to draw taut with each jostle across Beorn’s lap. Behind him, that tongue thrusts again and again into his hole, driving his pleasure to its peak. His eyes begin to flutter. He needs to come – _he’s going to come_ –

As if sensing his urgency, Beorn slides his tongue out. His hands flip Fili over and the surroundings dance madly before Fili’s glazed eyes. He sees the night-sky and wooden beams – and his own thighs spread apart for Beorn’s head to bury between. Then his engorged cock is swallowed into a hungry mouth and Fili’s mind shivers to pieces.

Mindless whimpers bubble from Fili throat. He no longer bears his own weight; he is pulled up and held open while Beorn’s lips fasten around the root of his shaft. The rest of his throbbing, erect flesh is clamped inside that wicked mouth to be squeezed and suckled. Quivering, his hands find their way to Beorn’s head and he clings on that shaggy mane with increasing frenzy. The scream is almost out of his throat –

Then a brawny forearm jams against Fili’s mouth and he sinks his teeth into it, sobbing as his second climax rips him apart. He _spurts_ , wet and copious, and Beorn’s tongue slithers around him to lap eagerly at his seed and coax even more of it from his cockhead. The forearm is removed and a hand now caresses Fili’s face. Mewling, the young Dwarf nuzzles blindly into it, his hips still bucking as Beorn’s mouth continues to milk the last trickles from his softening cock.

When he is finally satisfied that he has drunk all the cream from Fili’s flesh, Beorn sighs and  releases the sweat-drenched, quivering lad. He sets Fili’s hips down, stroking that dishevelled golden hair as Fili struggles to recover his shattered senses.  Blearily, Fili vaguely registers an enormous arm sliding under his body and lifting him up to be cradled against a warm, thick chest. Under most circumstances, it is an embarrassing position to be in, held like a babe, but Fili can hardly move and a pleasant lethargy is quickly pooling in his limbs.

Beorn’s free hand begins to pull Fili’s breeches and smallclothes up, then he pauses.

Lifting his head wearily, Fili still has a little decency left to blush when he sees the skin-changer studying his very naked, and very messily-wet lower regions. “ _Sweetest I’ve ever tasted_ ,” Beorn growls low in his throat, and bending his head, begins to clean Fili up with careful glides of his tongue over Fili’s groin and satiated shaft. Turning even redder, Fili keeps as still as he can, unable to help squirming and whimpering a little as his oversensitised flesh is gently mouthed and licked. Then, Beorn presses his lips to the still-moist slit of Fili’s cockhead, before carefully tucking Fili back into his smallclothes, and lacing his breeches up.

The skin-changer is carrying him back, Fili thinks as he feels himself moving though his limbs are heavy as lead. Then, just as he is settled back onto the ground amongst his kin, Fili’s eyes slip shut and he sleeps, dreaming of dangerous and forbidden pleasures.

_finis_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I saw this prompt, I was like OMG YESSSSSS. Then I waited. And after a week (which isn't much but I have the patience of a 2 year-old when it comes to certain things), I just got to the point of RAWR I'LL HAVE MY ANIMALISTIC FILI SMUT EVEN IF I HAVE TO WRITE IT MYSELF. Thus Beorn/Fili porn is born. *gleefully creates the Beorn/Fili AO3 tag*
> 
> Ok, now excuse me while I go bury my head somewhere. I have my moments when I feel tempted to go anon when posting a fill, and this is one of those. ~~I still have some shame left, okay, even though I turned Beorn the gentle tree-hugger into a rimming sex machine.~~


End file.
